


Dead Weight

by cherryblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: 1980s, Amputee, Crossdressing, Feminization, Hate Crimes, Homophobic Language, Injury, M/M, Memory Loss, Permanent Injury, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Selective Muteness, Welcome To Marwen Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/cherryblur
Summary: Today, Tyler walks.Tomorrow, he can’t.





	Dead Weight

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the movie/story welcome to marwen. 
> 
> tw for homophobic slurs

Tyler doesn’t remember a thing. 

He doesn’t remember his childhood, where he graduated, or what time it is for that matter. 

_They beat the memories out of him._

He lives in remembrance. Notes tell him how to live; scribbled directions in his barely legible handwriting.

He used to practice calligraphy. His handwriting was gorgeous. 

He used to play music and sing. He could pick up an instrument and learn it within the day, fingers plucking and pressing and tapping.

The piano in his living room sits and collects dust. A constant reminder of what once was his normal life.

His hands shake. Another unpleasantly permanent reminder, beside the scars. 

One that runs across his left cheek in a delicate manner, dozens that hide under his clothes. 

_How did it happen?_

•

Tyler liked women’s clothing.  
Simple. 

It wasn’t sexual or fetishized. He just liked the way he looked. He felt womanly. 

He adored soft fabrics and lace, always touchable and soothing to his skin.  
Dresses, skirts, shoes, cardigans.  
He could wear them all, and he loved them. He would even try makeup at home. 

Some, however, did not like it as much.  
In the 1980s, society was lax, but not careless. 

Tyler would hide his fabrics and shield it from the public eye until once getting told that he was utterly beautiful. 

And that the world needed to see it. 

It wasn’t much.  
A loose thing. Black, see-through, adorned with roses sporting pink and white accents. It fell near his knees. 

It hugged his body in all the right ways and fit _wonderfully_ over his normal clothes. 

Every time he’d step while wearing it, he felt like he was flying. 

And some wanted to shoot him down. 

_Fag._ That’s what they called him.  
_Queer._  
Kicked and punched and spit on until he was within a single inch of his life. 

He was out for a fun time, he was told.  
A small get together at a local bar. 

He bled all over his favorite cardigan. The woman who found him gasping on the sidewalk is now his caretaker. 

Jennifer Elizabeth Black. She wore his shoe size. 

Months in the hospital Tyler spent, counted down days and stayed within his own head. 

His bruises yellowed, cuts scabbed and scarred, broken parts put back together.

But now it’s time he moves. 

•

“I know,” Jenna starts and she moves his hair from his face. “it won’t be long. Your trainer is very nice, he knows your pain, hun.” She speaks soft and smooth so Tyler won’t ever forget her. 

He blinks in response. Why walk?  
Why speak? 

If a group of 5 guys can take Tyler’s world apart so fast, why try to put it back?  
Jenna helps him into the wheelchair. 

Spinal damage, hip damage. Temporarily crippled, he’s told.  
They stomped his bones real good. 

He doesn’t want to see the other patients flooding through the halls, but Jenna takes him to the busiest center. 

Rehabilitation. Physical therapy.

He’s convinced he’ll never get better but he’ll try for Jenna.  
She gets so happy when he tries. 

She locks his wheelchair and kisses his forehead. “I’m going to find your trainer, you sit tight, okay? Maybe make a friend?”  
Tyler gives her a ghost of a smile to satisfy her. 

He won’t make friends but he can talk to the ones in his mind.  
They’re not bad, just lonely. Like him.  
He watches other patients. Some lift weights, some walk, some run.  
Tyler can’t run. 

“Tyler!”

He hates his name. But he looks up and sees Jenna trailing behind a very..interesting character. 

“Hey.” He’s tall. Of course, everyone’s tall when you’re in a wheelchair. Pink hair, big muscles. Cut off shirt, tattoos? And..

Where his left leg should be there’s a metal prosthetic that starts at the knee and goes down. 

“I’m Josh,” He smiles and Tyler notices his piercings because _oh, yeah. He’s got a face._

Two holes in his ears and a ring through his nose. Dog tags hang from his neck so Tyler assumes Josh could only get away with these things by being in the military. 

He nods softly in reply, heart racing.  
He’s nervous. Jenna senses it.  
They shake hands and Jenna rushes behind him to grab his crutches.

Not so much crutches as they are _helpers_ , he calls them. He’s definitely got worse names, but theyre better than nothing.  
They buckle at his arms and make his useless legs a little more useless. 

Josh helps him to a small yoga mat, where he teaches both him and Jenna some easy exercises they can do on his legs to help him get stronger and gain the muscle back.  
Tyler watches like a hawk while Josh bends his legs at the knee, twists his calves a bit, massages his ankles.

He feels dumb.

”I think we can move on to the bars now, is that okay?” Josh asks, and Jenna answers for him.

He’s strapped up again and embarrassed already. Josh helps him _drag_ himself to the walking bars. 

Walking. He used to run and dance and even do cartwheels on the off chance.  
Walking feels like running a marathon blindly.

Tyler’s red-faced but Josh watches approvingly. The brunette grips the bars with his life while Jenna de-latches the crutches. 

“Tyler, can you walk for me? Just a little bit, hold on to the bars for as long as you need to.” 

Tyler closes big chocolate eyes and stares at the blue mat beneath his feet.  
Wow, his legs have gotten _skinny._

He puts weight on them, and oh. 

Oh, _ow._

One step is excruciating. It sends pain up his back all the way to his neck. He pants and small cries escape his mouth. Josh stays at his left side like a leech. 

He’s trying not to cry but the pain wriggling up his spine sends memories of steel-toed boots and ring-covered knuckles into his mind.

Jenna steps forward to intervene but Josh is closer and has his eyes locked on the brunette.

“I know it hurts,” He says softly. “but can you try to go a little farther?” His hand touches the small of Tyler’s back. It’s soothing. 

His hair is stuck to his forehead, chestnut locks brushing into his eyes. But he nods. 

Full blown yelps are echoing in the large room and every time he almost falls half the nurses try to rush and help. Josh shoos them away. 

“I got you,” He promises.

He finally falls after three steps.  
Right on his face. 

_Dammit_ , he yells at himself. 

Jenna frets and Josh helps (carries) Tyler back into his chair. He’s blushed all the way to his ears and he hates it. Everyone looks.

“This is good,” Josh informs her. He leans to Tyler. “You’ve got to learn to love the pain, okay? That’s the only way we’ll make it.” 

_We_. They were in it together. 

He sure hoped so. 

•

Tyler likes Josh.

He helps and seems to understand why the brunette doesn’t talk. 

He never comments on how small he is, like everyone else. (So dainty! Cute! Like a doll!) 

He treats him normally, which also means he doesn’t sugarcoat a thing. 

“Tyler, if you don’t walk how are you gonna go in that courtroom and tell the judge what they did to you at the sentence hearing?”  
Tyler will point at his wheelchair and Josh shakes his head, laughing. 

“There are people who would do this for days on end just to get a chance to walk again,” He taps his prosthetic on the wood floor. “you’re lucky.” 

Tyler always hears that he’s lucky, but not for that reason. 

Lucky to be alive, lucky for someone like Jenna. 

Lucky to be in a wheelchair? 

Josh doesn’t waste time and snaps Tyler from his thoughts. 

“Up, up!” He helps the brunette out of his chair. “Jenna isn’t here today so it’s all you and me, bud.” 

He doesn’t mind that. 

One step doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s hard, telling his legs where to go and what to do because they seem to have a mind of their own. 

His dainty hands have made prints in the walking bars’ paint. Sometimes he spends hours with Josh just trying to make another step. 

He cries and yells and lets Josh take him down and assure him that it’s okay, that they’ll try again tomorrow.

Now is tomorrow. He’s going to make it to the end. 

His feet hate him, he falls once, twice, and almost a third but catches himself on the bars.  
Josh doesn’t intervene. 

But he makes it. 

As soon as he hit the end Josh is celebrating, yelling and clapping and Tyler’s even smiling now. 

“I’m so proud.” His eyes sparkle. 

And Tyler feels his stomach do flips. 

•

“So.” Jenna says one night over the makeshift dinner they were served at the hospital. 

“The sentencing is coming up.” 

Tyler freezes. 

“You need to go,” She softens. “you need to tell the judge what those horrible boys did to you, honey.” She looks at him with sad eyes and knows that he will shake his head.

Instead he’s frozen, eyes squeezed shut. PTSD strikes like a viper. 

_“Listen, I-I don’t-“_

_“What, fag? Is that what you are, a faggot?”_

_“Obviously, look at those clothes!”_

_“You know what happens to little queer boys like you, huh?”_

_“They don’t last very long ‘round here.”_

Tyler can hear their punches and kicks and _laughing_. 

He grips the hospital bedside. Tears rolling. His teeth are clenched because he doesn’t want to cry but he does. It hurts so much. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Jenna uses that pet name only in these times. “We won’t talk about it anymore, okay? No more.” 

She’s rubbing his back and whispering all those soft things that calm him down. 

He wants to say that he wants _Josh_ , because _Josh’s_ touch is cool and nice and his words fit _so_ wonderfully together and Tyler’s heart just _flutters_ when he’s around since he’s so encouraging-

“Ty?” 

Tyler snaps up from his..reminiscing. 

“Are you okay?” Reassurance, reassurance, reassurance. Jenna is constantly asking for the confirmation of _yes, I’m okay._

He nods. 

Josh Dun is going to be an issue.

•

“Look at you, man!” 

Tyler’s walking the bars all by himself now.  
3 months of physical therapy and he’s nearly ready to let go and walk. 

Josh is beyond proud. He cheers and claps and is the most supportive trainer/doctor/person Tyler has ever met. 

“You’re going to do great,” He tells him after Jenna mentions the sentencing. “do you want me to come with you? For encouragement?”

Tyler nods like a bobblehead. 

It’s in 3 weeks and his lawyer tells him to prepare.  
He starts walking alone at 2 weeks before with the help of some smaller, more modest crutches. 

•

“He doesn’t speak, you know this, Pete.” 

“How will he address the judge? The court?” 

“I have _tried_ , but you won’t hear a word out of him.” 

Tyler listens because when they have talks about him he can’t interrupt.  
He’s home. Eveything was quite dusty and he sneezes a lot more now.

It’s lonely. Jenna checks on him every 2 weeks to give him pills and bring groceries.  
He gets special visits now because of the sentencing next week.

Sometimes he wants Josh to come over, but he’s also too scared to ask.

He watches his lawyer and Jenna bicker and wishes he would just open his mouth and yell all the words stuck inside his head.  
It’s not that his vocal chords were damaged; sure they kicked him in the throat plenty of times, but the trauma was enough to make anyone go mute. 

“He can write words on a notepad.”

“The WHOLE statement?” 

Jenna just sighs. “We’ll try, okay? There’s nothing I can do, but I know someone who might be able to help.” 

Tyler’s lawyer leaves with a sad sigh. 

He sits on the floor, just because he can, legs in front of himself. His house is small, but it’s room enough for him. He hears Jenna pick up the phone from the wall and press in a number.

“Josh?” 

He looks up from the writing worksheets he was given at the hospital ( _“to help the shaking”_ ) and his insides JUMP. 

“Yeah, if you could..he-he really likes you and I think you two could maybe make a little progress.”

His face heats up. 

Twenty minutes later Tyler’s favorite person in the world is knocking and crossing his threshold with his metal leg and pretty smile and Tyler just _sighs._

“Hey Ty!” Tyler stands on his own and gets greeted with a big hug that he sinks into. 

“Jenna told me that I could help you talk?” He murmurs into his ear. Tyler nods but doesn’t smile at that. 

“Let’s get started.” 

•

Jenna leaves, on account of Josh telling her she worries too much and that she caused a “bad vibe” for the lesson. 

She left to the salon. 

“All right, man,” He rubs his hands together. “this is going to be like our physical exercises, okay? I’m not gonna hold up little flash cards or ask you to read, this is YOUR voice and you can say with it whatever you want.” 

Tyler feels pressure immediately. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

It’s weird. Trying to talk after 9 months of not. 

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. What does he want to say? 

_“Fag! C’mon, too scared to fight back?”_

_“Look at him! Keeps st-st-st-STUTTERING.”_

_“Little fairy boy cant even defend himself.”_

And suddenly he’s crying in Josh’s arms because damn flashbacks just can’t leave him alone. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” He says in that tone that makes Tyler’s heart melt. 

The brunette looks up and takes Josh’s face in his shaky, scarred hands. 

He will do this. For Josh. It’s him, it’s not those men, it’s not a judge. He’ll say this for _Josh._

The pink-haired boy looks at him, concerned, but doesn’t pull away.  
He knows how important this is. 

Eyebrows furrowed, tears still falling, Tyler says Josh’s name with a stutter. His lips barely move and his voice is rough.

And he feels proud. Feels like he just ran a marathon and won.  
He’s so happy and Josh is hugging him again and he just wants to _kiss_ him for some reason.

•

Tyler hasn’t seen his closet in 9 months. 

When he opens it Jenna is touching his shoulder in a reassuring manner. 

Everything is still in place.  
His normal clothes.  
His heels.  
His dresses. 

He cries and lets Jenna hold him. 

6 days until the sentencing and Tyler talks soft. He’s quiet and gentle and careful with his words because in the back of his head he thinks that if HE had chosen the _right_ ones he wouldn’t have been mangled. 

His lawyer hands him the statement he’s to read. 

_I was a musician. I would create songs and sing others. I could play so many instruments without even trying. Now that is taken from me. I cannot write my own name, let alone strum a guitar. I was wearing a women’s cardigan at the time of the attack, but never wanted to cause harm. I am alive, and I will not let the men who did this to me go out without punishment._

He hates it. 

•

“Josh,” He says 5 days before the sentencing. “Is it...bad to like-like other men?” 

Josh is over for dinner that night. Take-out Chinese. He looks up and to Tyler’s surprise isn’t disgusted or weirded out.

“It’s not,” He tells him. “Not at all. There are thousands of homosexual people. Guys or girls. Some people in society have cold hearts, Tyler. And they don’t believe in true love, so that’s why they hate and do things like..” 

He stops. “Well..what they did to you. You were different, and some have closed vision so they don’t see that you weren’t there trying to cause harm.”

Tyler nods and stares at his orange chicken because he’s trying not to smile doofily.

“Thank you.” 

He decides in bed that night that he like-likes Josh. 

•

4 days before Tyler has to stand in front of the court and see his attackers once more. 

He calls Josh over more often, since work was a little slow at the hospital. 

They’ve become good friends. 

“So, your leg,” Tyler says one night over a movie. He’s timid. 

“I lost it during the war,” Josh answers, pulling up his pant leg to show the metal replacement. “hurt like hell, but I’m lucky to still be able to walk.” 

Tyler nods. “What were you?”

“Army,” Josh says proudly. He lets the brunette read and touch his dog tags. 

He’s _so_ close. 

Nearly chest to chest. Tyler looks up and sees Josh watching him with a soft expression. 

His breathing is shallow but then Josh tips his chin with a steady hand and Tyler’s _gone_. 

He hasn’t kissed anyone since 8th grade. A girl, named Hailey, who he didn’t really like, but everyone kept telling him to date her. 

Josh is smooth and rough. Fast and slow. He’s holding Tyler like he might break and yet keeping him steady all at the same time. 

The brunette’s hands roam, feeling battle scars and tattoos and muscle. 

They pull away and yes, Tyler thinks he likes men. 

“I, uh,” Josh starts. He’s flushed to his chest. 

“I liked that,” Tyler murmurs. His eyes are big and his heart is bigger. 

“Me too.”  
Josh’s pupils are blown wide.

•

Josh and Tyler hold hands 3 days before the court sentencing. Only at home, though. 

Sometimes Tyler will fall or trip and everything will come rushing back.  
But Josh is always there to steady him. 

“Always,” He tells him repeatedly when they lay in bed together that night. Tyler doesn’t like sleeping alone anymore. 

Josh is warm. 

•

Tyler has a breakdown 2 days before. 

He’s crouched in the kitchen, gripping his hair and crying and begging for mercy or help or _anything, please._

He relives the kicks and sneers and slurs.  
The pain. 

Josh holds him until the sun rises. 

•

“Tomorrow,” He gets reminded. His lawyer, Mr. Wentz, drops off his suit, freshly dry cleaned and pressed. 

Josh never lets go of his hand. 

He kisses Tyler’s shaky fingers and lets the brunette touch. His fingers haven’t felt anything as steady as Josh’s heart beat. 

“I love you.” He says that night. Nervous and shaky and Josh can tell. 

“I love you too.” Is the reply. Soft and sleepy and true. 

Tyler’s heart swells with all that love. 

•

Tomorrow morning Josh wakes and sees Tyler standing in front of his mirror. 

He’s wearing a dress with heels. 

And frowning.

Josh studies him with himself. 

“Beautiful,” He says. 

Tyler doesn’t think so. 

•

“Will the court please rise for honorable judge Patrick Vaughn Stumph.” 

Tyler latches to Josh’s side faster than he can speak. 

The inmates walk chained together. Orange jumpsuits, snarky grins.  
His breathing quickens and Josh tells him not to look at them. 

His eyes are huge, resembling a scared wild animal and they know, too. They can tell he’s scared.  
He starts to hyperventilate. 

“Will the victim, Tyler Joseph please address the court with his statement, if he is here?” 

“You gotta stand, baby,” Josh mumbles to him but he’s gripping his shirt sleeve and trying not to cry because he can FEEL their eyes on him he can FEEL their _hands-_

“Tyler?” 

He looks up at the judge and shakes. He looks at Josh. 

“I-I-I can’t, I’m.” 

His head spins. The room spins. 

Oh, and he’s running. 

Out of the courtroom, through the first, second, third set of doors until he’s gone. 

•

“He scheduled the sentencing for next week,” Josh tells him. 

“I can’t do it, I don’t want to.” Tyler hides in the pantry. 

“I know.” 

•

Tyler hates his pills.  
Big and blue and stupid. 

They sit in his windowsill with a big note that reads “TAKE ONE EVERY MORNING”

Next to the notes that read “TURN HEAT UP” next to the thermostat, and “TURN LIGHTS OFF” next to the light-switch. 

Tyler doesn’t remember much. 

He can’t remember his parents, who don’t talk to him anymore, or the house he grew up in, where wearing women’s clothes was a sin punishable by death. He doesn’t remember what songs he would sing, or how he wrote them. 

Or how to play. 

He remembers math. Simple things. Facts. 

Emotional memories were wiped. Kicked out of him like a restless donkey. 

•

Josh makes love to him the night before the second attempt at the sentencing. 

It takes begging, dozens of answers to the question _”Are you sure?”_ before he lays them down and starts so slow.

He’s gentle and soft and they’re both crying at the end because of the pure love that permeates the room like a thick perfume.  
Tyler has an iron grip the whole time, just to make sure he was still in reality. 

No one ever made him feel that good.  
That _loved._

Josh kisses him everywhere afterwards and praises his body. He spreads “I love you” over his skin like paint. 

Scars and all. 

•

Everyone always says _“I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” “I’m so sorry that they did that to you.”_

Why are they sorry for something they don’t care about? 

•

“Is Tyler here now? Is he ready to approach the court?”

Tyler stand and holds Josh’s hand in a vice grip. 

“Y-Yessir,” He stutters out.  
One of the inmates _giggles._

“Good,” The judge begins to rifle through papers. “Would you like to give your statement before we decide what sentence to give these men?” 

Tyler looks around the courtroom and sees the evidence that was set up on poster boards and static-filled television screens. 

Blown up pictures of his face on them.  
The aftermath.  
Bloody and bruised and broken. A true crime scene.  
Covered in bandages. 

He starts by reading from the paper. His fingers create indents.

“I was..a musician. I would c-create songs and sing t-to others. I could play s-so many instruments without even trying.” He takes a deep breath.  
“Now that is taken from m-me. I cannot write my own name, let alone strum a guitar.” He doesn’t want to say more but everyone watches expectantly.  
“I was wearing a...w-women’s cardigan at the time of the attack, but never wanted to cause harm.” He stops and puts the paper down. 

“I was defenseless. I-I thought for so long that I had said the wrong thing a-and constantly put the blame on m-myself.” He turns to the inmates. 

“I am alive,” He states. “I’ve struggled and have permanent damage because of th-these..men, if you could c-call them that.” Josh squeezes his hand. 

“And I want them to know that..they-they can’t hurt me anymore. I’m not afraid.” 

The five men get charged with not only 1st and 2nd degree assault, but as well as attempted manslaughter and committing a hate crime. 

They receive life sentences. 

That night, Tyler comes out to Jenna. 

•

 _“I’m so proud of you.”_ Is what he hears all night. 

Jenna and Josh surround him in love, even though she has to go since he no longer needs a caretaker.  
But because of him, she now works at the hospital and helps kids just like him. 

Josh takes care of him. They move into a new house, one with a fresh start and no stairs. ( _“my leg hates it”_ , but Tyler doesn’t mind.)

Tyler accepts himself enough to wear his clothes again. Josh adores every piece, even if it’s just a pair of heels. 

He feels warm. Josh never lets him fail, never lets him down. His touch is always within close range. 

And now, Tyler’s famous.  
He’s the one who survived.  
He’s an advocate.  
Teenagers and adults everywhere look up to him. They face the same problems. 

He is their role model. 

It’s a lot to be put on his 25 year old shoulders. But he’ll take it.

•

Sometimes the flashbacks still come.  
He’ll grip the back of a chair or Josh’s arm and squeeze his eyes shut until they’re done hurting again. 

He still falls. But Josh does too.  
They help each other up and keep each other grounded. 

Hate still exists.  
They get glares and filthy words. 

But hell, if someone like Josh can love Tyler from the start..

How bad can he be?

**Author's Note:**

> c o m m e n t


End file.
